The Seduction of Walter Dornez
by lunartick
Summary: OC. Young Walter. Where Alucard discovers the disadvantages of wearing a skirt, Walter pines for true love, and Sir Hellsing is absolutely smashed. Parody of Romance... of sorts.
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys and girls! This is my first Hellsing fanfic, so I would just like to clarify some points.

Firstly, this fic is not a serious fic. It's meant to be funny and whacky, and thus the characters might potentially act in ways or do things that seem rather OC. I know some people don't like that, but since this OC-ness is for comic purposes, I hope people wouldn't take too much offense to this.

Secondly, I have taken much liberty with regards to the English society portrayed in this fic. For example, I am totally unsure if girls were allowed in public schools with boys in the 1940s, but for dramatic purposes, I have allowed for it in my fic. Also, the characters might have knowledge that was only "discovered" in later decades, or use slang that is more common to the 21st century. Given that _Hellsing_, the original works itself, takes a certain amount liberty with the portrayal of the history and society of England in the 1940s, I decided that for poetic/dramatic/comic purposes, I shall take certain liberties with the history and society of England in the 1940s. No offense is meant to readers who wish for more "authenticity" in the portrayal of England.

Thirdly, the characters within this fic might express certain "racist" or bias opinions to other races, nations or cultures. This does not reflect my personal views, but is instead, meant to reflect the general antagonism which exists between various groups, like the Protestants and the Catholics, in the original _Hellsing_ manga and anime.

I think that mostly covers my "disclaimers" so to speak, and thus the last thing to do is to declare that I do not owe _Hellsing_ in anyway and to hope that readers will be kind and leave a review after reading this fic!

Please enjoy.

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As butler of the Hellsing household, Walter C Dornez was used to happenings of the strangest and most disturbing nature. Ghouls were a common sight, as were vampires. There was an occasional witch, perhaps a woman or two who happened to turn into snakes or crows. Sometimes there were suits of armour that chose to leave their appointed venues of display and wander around. Werewolves were uncommon but hardly non-existent. If nothing else, there was a cross-dressing (cross gendered morphing?) ancient _Nosferatu _with a tendency to sneak up on you and tickle you to contend with. All most trivial, in the eyes of Butler Walter C Dornez.

What was not trivial however, was walking into the library only to be swept into the enthusiastic and odorous embrace of a sobbing Sir Arthur Hellsing.

"Oh, Walter!"

"What the f… I mean, yes, my Lord oh my goodness when was the last time you bathed?"

"Walter, I have been too cruel to you!"

"Ah… My lord, my arm… ow… my arm! Ow!"

"I cannot believe what I've done to you!"

"Ow! Let me… go!"

With some rather Machiavellian attacking of various sensitive spots on Sir Arthur Hellsing, Walter C Dornez finally escaped the arms that were threatening to crush various fragile bones in his body. With as much dignity as he could, the Butler of Hellsing scooted to a safe distance and adjusted his clothing primly.

"My lord," Walter C Dornez said, offering a polite bow. "May I be of assistance to you?"

"Ah… that's fine…" the great Sir Arthur Hellsing squeaked from somewhere below Walter C Dornez's knees.

"You do look rather under the weather, my lord. A spot of tea perhaps?"

"Brandy, my good lad, would be most welcomed."

"I fear you have been indulging far too much my lord. A good Ceylon would perhaps, be more appropriate."

"My dear lad…"

"Two sugars as per normal, my lord?"

"Walter…"

"And a dash of cream of course."

"Butler!"

"Your tea, my lord."

"… Thanks. If you would… help me…"

"Of course, my lord."

"Ah… yes, yes… that chair if you please… the one with the thick cushions… ah… thank you."

"It was my pleasure, my lord."

Walter C Dornez stepped back and lowered his head politely in a bow. "Now my lord," he said. "May I know what that most indecent display was about?"

Sir Arthur Hellsing took a tentative sip of the tea. "Ah, Walter!" he cried, and tears sprang to his bloodshot eyes. "I have been so cruel to you!"

"Whatever do you mean, my lord?"

"Look at you!" A finger was gestured despairingly in Walter C Dornez's general direction.

"My lord?" Walter C Dornez risked a surreptitious glance at his tie just it case it had come loose.

"I mean, look at you!" The finger was gestured in Walter C Dornez's direction again.

"Ah… my lord. I would advice you not get up. I fear your over-indulgence of the spirits have left you…"

"Jesus Christ, just listen to you!"

"My lord!" Walter C Dornez cried, appalled. "That was most blasphemous!"

"Just listen to you!" Sir Arthur Hellsing wailed, attempting to get up, but failing and sinking back into the chair. "You are all of fourteen and you speak like an old geezer! I can just imagine you as some old butler, with a ponytail and wrinkles all over your face!"

"My lord! That is most preposterous…"

"And you know what?"

"Oh dear…" Walter C Dornez muttered. "What, my lord?"

"It's all my fault."

Sir Arthur Hellsing rose to his full height, his bloodshot eyes wobbling with tears. "It's all my fault, my dear lad," he whispered, as his chin joined his eyes in wobbling. He took a tentative step forward, and his legs decided to join the general wobbling that was going on.

"Sir…" Walter C Dornez took one look at his master's inebriated state and hid a grimace. "If I may remind you, I chose to become a Hellsing assassin of my own will…"

"Oh I know that," Sir Arthur Hellsing said, waving a dismissive hand. "It's probably good that you got that job anyway. Gives you a place to vent all your teenage rage, I suppose. All those hormones, really now, I could tell you tales of how _I_ vented my teenage rage… But you could guess and oh well, all this killing and slaying and renting is good experience of course. I expect it'll get you a good job in the military if you leave Hellsing one day. I most certainly was not referring to that anyhow."

"Oh… well then…"

"I meant you don't have friends of your age!" Sir Arthur Hellsing flopped down on his chair again, internally cursing his knees, which appeared to have rebelled against him. "You have no one to sneak cigarettes with… no one to talk about girls with… hell, no one to play cricket with! No one to learn how to be… be a teenager from! What tragedy!"

"Oh… well, my lord. I do not have the need to sneak cigarettes, and I find it most indecent to talk about girls. Nor do I play cricket…"

"That is not the point, my dear boy!" Sir Arthur Hellsing cried, throwing up his arms despairingly.

"Sir Hellsing?"

"The point is, my lad… The point is… I'm drunk."

"That is a conceivable idea, my lord."

"I am so drunk… so… what's that term? So… _smashed_. Ah yes, that's the term. I am perfectly _smashed_, my boy."

"Indeed, sir."

"And in my… my _smashedness_, if you could call it that…"

"As you wish, sir."

"I have done something which I fear we both shall regret most fully, but I am sure you will forgive me because I am just _so_ smashed!"

"… My lord, if you would be so kind as to enlighten me…?"

"Well, dear lad… well… the thing is… oh _bugger _it! I know you are going to hate me, but in my drunken state, I am most afraid that I have signed you up in an independent school."

"I beg your pardon?"

"An independent school! A public school!"

"A… public school?"

"Yes, and class starts in half an hour's time."

"…Ah…"

"You do forgive me, boy?"

"I only regret leaving my gloves in my room."

"Such a kind boy. Such a kind, _kind_ boy."

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It was with the greatest sense of trepidation that Walter had approached the building. In the end though, he had nothing to fear. The educational system had, by some strange coincidence matched the education he had received in preparation for his status as Butler of Hellsing. The classics were a breeze (Many classical fictional works were actually true, hence all Hellsing staff members were required to read them. For example, contrary to popular belief, that Frankenstein is the name of the monster is not a misconception. Frankenstein _was_ the name of the monster. The government had edited the story such that Frankenstein became the name of the maker in order to hide the true identity of the maker, who happened to had been a rather prominent public figure.) Math was simple (killing ghouls frequently had led Walter C Dornez to acquire the rather complicated skill of computing numbers accurately on the spot; it was often important to know how many ghouls and vampires had been killed). Modern language and philosophy were easy (frequent conversations with an ancient cross-dressing vampire tended to end up with much philosophizing and wordplay, hence Walter had much practice with both languages and philosophy). Sport was, needless to say, rather simple for a boy who was capable of leaping from a plane while carrying a coffin and landing safely.

In short, by the end of the fourth period, Walter C Dornez found himself being deeply, profoundly bored in the library.

"I am bored," he informed _The Illiad_. "I am bored to the point that I am speaking to a book. That is a sign of how bored I am. In fact, I wish I had a gun now so I could shoot myself in the head. Ah, I expect that is why Alucard is so fond of getting shot to bits. Living for five hundred years is bound to get boring sooner or later."

_The Illiad_ failed to reply, and Walter C Dornez decided that it was a most impolite book and thus unworthy of his attention. With much firmness, he stuffed the book back into the shelf, hoping that it would understand it was being abandoned because of its rudeness. Hopefully it would learn from this and would be much more polite to the next poor sod that picked it up. Walter C Dornez was always thinking about his fellow men – though not always in such charitable terms.

It was then, as he was busy silently educating _The Illiad _on the finer points of politeness that he noticed a figure sitting in a corner.

The figure, wrapped snugly in a pink knit sweater that two Walters could have fit into, sat all by herself, nose deep in _A Picture of Dorian Gray_. It was a rather odd figure, in a shape reminiscent of a Christmas tree, with a sharp conical head, much broader hips and skinny legs. Upon a sharp nose rested rectangular pink glasses that hid a pair of crossed eyes. Freckles dotted round cheeks. Two buck teeth jutted out from thick red lips. Some might shudder to do so, but the figure could most likely be described as _female_.

The girl (and a girl she was, as some might be distressed to find out) was the kind of girl that attracted the attention of good looking rugby players and beautiful socialites. She was the kind of girl that caused arms to reflexively throw gum, or any other handy object, in her direction. She was the kind of girl that caused legs to shoot out from under their owners' surprised gazes to kick her in the bottom. She was the kind of girl who had fifty hands pulling at her twin braids as she walked down the hallways. One look in her direction caused model students to degenerate into cruel name-calling.

Walter C Dornez took one look at her and fell madly in love.

"Good heavens, my dear _Illiad_," Walter C Dornez whispered to the trembling book. "I fain believe my eyes! She is the most wondrous creature I have ever gazed upon!"

_The Illiad_ yet again failed to reply and Walter C Dornez decided it was probably beyond all hope of redemption. "Be silent if you will," he huffed. "That lovely creature beyond… I must speak to her! I must or I shall fade away and turn into a wraith!"

With his mind made up, Walter C Dornez swept up the disobliging book and travelled in the direction of the tree-shaped figure.

"Good afternoon, madam!" he cried gallantly, earning the ire of the other occupants of the library. "Isn't today the loveliest day you have ever seen?"

The crossed eyes travelled upwards and struggled to focus upon his face. It did not seem to work too well for a look of dizziness crept over her face and she settled for looking somewhere in the general direction of his bow tie. "Bloody lousy weather," she said defiantly, as if daring him to disagree. "Too much sun. Th'will give me skin cancer."

"Oh, I agree. I _burn_ so in the sun."

"Yeah?"

"Most certainly. That's why I mostly work at night."

The eyes, magnified dramatically by the thick lenses of her glasses wobbled as she squinted up at him. "Hmm. What'cha do?"

"I kill vampires and the ghouls they create."

"Yeah?"

"_And_, I am a butler in a rich household."

"Cool. That is just plain awesome. Like a real butler? Man, you must have so much fun."

"Most certainly. I do enjoy opening doors for visitors."

"T's cool. I wish I were a _real_ butler. But my mama said girls aint' supposed to be no butler. Wish I were you, man, wish I were you."

"Thank you."

"Killing vamps and ghouls are alright too, I guess."

"That is most gracious of you."

"Just the idea of blood and guts on my shoes. Erk."

"They are indeed, most unpleasant to scrub out."

"You're so funny. Wanna sit?"

"Oh, yes. It is most kind of you."

"Hmpf."

"_The Picture of Dorian Gray_ is a good book."

"Yeah. 'M Margaret Lucy Fairfield."

"Walter C Dornez."

"Yeah. But you can call me Marg."

"That is most kind…"

"And I shall call you Walt C D."

"Most kind."

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Before Sir Arthur Hellsing was a bountiful spread of a banquet. Tomato soup, roast duck, cream potatoes, bread and butter, and champagne. Yet, Sir Arthur Hellsing found himself sorely lacking an appetite. A quick inventory of his body (cold sweat, trembling limbs, increased heart rate) strongly suggested nerves were to be blamed.

"My Master."

Without glancing behind, Sir Arthur Hellsing sank back into his chair and buried his face in his hands. "He is going to kill me," he said wearily. "My own butler is going to turn me into minced meat."

A soft chuckle greeted his words. "Well, you _did_ send him to public school, my master."

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in."

"It is a pity you did not take my advice five years ago. I would have been able to turn you now…"

"Don't start on that, servant. I totally do _not_ regret sleeping with Elena."

"Even though she left you after stealing the silver?"

"Hey! A nice ass is a nice ass."

"Indeed… Ah. I recognize those footsteps."

With a smirk, Alucard faded into a discreet corner as Sir Arthur Hellsing sat up abruptly in his seat with a loud, audible gulp. "Oh go… bugger," he muttered, glancing desperately at his servant before turning back to the door.

With a soft click, the door to the dining room opened and Walter C Dornez swept in.

"Sir Hellsing!" he cried, throwing his hand to his forehead in a gesture of sheer desperation.

"Ah, Walter! Je… I mean, I am so sorry! I swear, I was really, really drunk when I did that. I really am…"

"Oh, my lord!" Walter cried, sitting abruptly in one of the chairs. "Sir Hellsing, I had the most… the most… heavens, I have no words to describe how I feel!"

Arthur Hellsing opened his mouth automatically to tell his butler off for such un-butlerly behaviour then shut it again. "Surely," he said hesitantly. "Surely it was not that bad… I mean, I've been to public school and I made it out quite fine…"

"Bad? Bad?!" Walter cried, slamming his palms down onto the dining table and temporarily reanimating the roast duck. "Heavens, Sir Hellsing, if I do say so, this was the most fabulous day I have ever had!"

"Oh, so you enjoyed…"

"Enjoyed? Sweet heavens above!" Walter whispered, his eyes feverish. "My good Sir Hellsing, my master, Sir Hellsing… I have found the love of my life!"

"… Oh… erh… by that you mean…"

"I have found my _love_!" Walter cried, sweeping back onto his feet. "Shakespeare's dark lady and golden boy, Yeat's Maud Gonne, Wilde's Dorian Gray, Keat's Fanny! I am _in love_!"

Sir Arthur Hellsing's chin trembled and he gripped the table top firmly, ignoring the crazed laughter emitting from a certain dark corner. "E… Excuse me, Walter? You are in love?"

"Yes!"

"With a boy?"

"What? No! A girl!"

"Oh. Oh that's good. The Dorian Gray thing kind of threw me…"

"Threw you? How do you think I feel?" Walter's eyes burnt brightly over his flushed cheeks. "My heart beats," he whispered. "It beats _so_ hard. I… I need to do something or it will beat out of my _bosom_! I should… I should write a love poem, no? A sonnet perhaps? No?"

"Oh… well," Arthur Hellsing cleared his throat. "Erm… Alucard? Alucard! Receive your orders! Stop laughing and… and… well… never mind. Who is this lady?"

"Oh… oh… a lovely creature… such a lovely creature… Margaret Fairfield!"

"Margaret Fairfield? Can't say I've heard of her. So… you proposed to her?"

"Yes!"

"Oh bugger! Do you even know anything about the… the _physical _workings of… never mind. How did it happen?"

"We spent the whole day together of course. We skipped everything past the fourth period and went for long walks around the compound. I plucked a white flower for her… she sang for me while I played the guitar…"

"Good heavens, lad, I didn't know you knew how to play a guitar!"

"Oh, I didn't. But she didn't know how to sing either, so it worked out most satisfactorily. At any rate, we soon found ourselves alone in a nearby cemetery. She sat on a tombstone, I leaned against a cherub, and we discussed homosexuality in the nineteenth century. It was most fascinating, if I do say so."

"Ah… well. I knew there was a reason I wanted to send you to public school. You really do not know how to even _court_ a lady do you?"

"Oh, but it was so _perfect_, sire! The way her eyes lit up with the fire of passion, the way her cheeks flushed as she expounded her arguments in length. I must admit, I quite… quite lost my senses somewhere along the way."

"Good gracious. I feel like a voyeur. Finish your story."

"I decided we needed to find a far more suitable place for a proposal, so I led her to the quietest building I could find. Following which, I dropped on my knees, declared in great lengths the beauty and grace I saw within her. Then I begged her to accept me as a lover."

"Dear lord! Dear Lord! You _didn't_! What… what… and I shudder to ask this… what happened next?"

"Well," Walter said rather bemusedly. "She laughed me out of the boy's room."

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The members of Hellsing have always been of a rather stable nature. Come hell water or fire, come rain or shine, they would remain firm and resolute. Even if the Black Plague came (again), even if the Great Fires broke out (again), they would be strong in the face of great adversity.

That wasn't to say that they weren't rather _fiery_ of nature.

"She laughed my Butler out of the boy's room!" Arthur Hellsing roared.

Because they were – fiery of nature that is.

For the first time in his life, Alucard found himself rather at a lost as he watched his master rant and rave (and destroy various precious antiques of great historical value). Vampires, he could handle: that was his specialty after all. Werewolves were not a problem either. Nor were banshees, Sidhe Queens, dragons, sirens, gargoyles, demons, witches, conjurers, pagan gods, Satan or leprechauns for that matter. However, the Pride of Men was something of a mystery to him (what with having been dead for a few hundred years – and currently being in a female form of course).

"My Master, is this not most delightful? Seeing your butler scorned by a mere girl?" he ventured.

"Delightful? _Delightful_? My good vampire, I have half a mind to order you to set your own hound on yourself!" Arthur Hellsing shrieked. "The Butler of Hellsing has been _scorned_ by some unknown lass! The _Hellsing_ has been _scorned_! How dare that ungrateful wretch dare _scorn_ the Hellsing family! Why, the moment Walter proposed to her, she should have been flinging herself at his feet and offering her maidenhood in sheer gratitude!"

"That went out of fashion years ago, Master. The offering of maidenhood and so forth."

"You know what? You _know_ what, servant? There is nothing left to do but this. I cannot allow this unchristian pagan, this damned soul to trample on Hellsing's pride. Alucard, receive your orders."

"Yes, Master."

"Search and destroy. Search and destroy! Find this ungrateful wretch! Flay her skin! Rent her flesh! Break her bones! Crush her blasphemous form beneath your feet! Shoot her with blessed bullets! Lay the cross on her head! Heal her of her sins! May the Queen and God be with you, Amen!"

"Such weak prey, such _trash_. It does my soul bad to slay weak trash like this."

"Weak trash that scorned our Butler! Obey your orders, Servant!"

"As you command Master. I shall search and destroy. I shall find this ungrateful wretch. I shall flay her skin, rent her flesh, break her bones and crush her blasphemous form beneath my feet. I shall shoot her with blessed bullets, lay a cross on her head, and heal her of her sins. Amen."

"Amen!"

Alucard emitted a chuckle that could most aptly be described as "evil" and "cruel". Following which, he slowly sank into the deep pool of blackness around him. "Slaying shy virgins now, my lord," he chuckled (evilly and cruelly, that is). "I do so enjoy watching a Hellsing at work."

"Shy virgin?" As a cloudy sky that clears to let the sunrays beam down, as a rainbow that shines through the scattering of dew drops, Sir Arthur Hellsing's face relaxed and broke into a broad, rather deranged smile. "Of course! Of course! Of course she is shy! This is no witch! This is a shy virgin! I'm so glad I thought of that, servant!"

Alucard paused in mid-sink and mid-chuckle (which left him with a faintly ridiculous expression on his face). "Master, I thought of that point."

"That's impossible. You are dead and thus have no brain waves. You can't possibly think. But that is all rather beside the point, my dear servant" A gloved hand was waved in a dismissive fashion to show how beside the point that was. "I see how it is now. We have not one, but _two_ miserable young people. Walter, for being scorned, and the dear Margaret Fairfield, who must be cursing her shy nature at this very moment and praying that young Walter would not despise her for her disgusting Victorian nature."

"Of course, my Master."

"What we must do now, Alucard, servant is to bring this misunderstanding to a close."

"Yes, my Master."

"Be prepared to receive your orders, servant!"

"Yes, my Master."

"Prepare a ball, the most magnificent this country shall ever see! Summon the staff! Summon an orchestra! Bring them under your order! See to the duck and the turkey! See to the lamp chops and the steak! See to the potatoes and the carrots! Change the draperies! Shine the chandeliers! Polish the floors! Invite the guests! From the Queen to the most miserly of peasants! Bring Walter C Dornez and Margaret Fairfield together in everlasting sexual bliss! May God and the Queen be with you, Amen!"

"… What? Ducks? Potatoes?"

"Oh goodness, you are most correct, my dear servant. Forget the potatoes, they are too Irish. Let us have some _rice_ instead. A little Oriental touch, hmm? Nothing like a little exoticism to create a little eroticism I always say. Ho ho ho."

"…"

"Well? Get on to it!"

"Sir yes sir… my… Master."

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Walter C Dornez, was, as a perceptive reader would have perceived by now, rather miserable. All his life, Butler Walter C Dornez had been considered something of a Talent. He could kill vampires with a flick and flash of deadly, razor-sharp wires; he could expound on and discuss great philosophical issues on the spot in a charming British accent; he could manage the everyday organization of a huge mansion; he could do a perfect impersonation of a ghoul doing strange and disturbing things to a lamp-post. Seldom in his life had he ever encountered failure such as this.

The love of his life, and yet he could not even throw himself at her feet and kiss her divine and misshapen toes. All he could do was dust the corners of the black cabinet in Arthur Hellsing's smoking room and pine away in unrequited love.

"Margaret Lucy Fairfield, oh Margaret Lucy Fairfield," Walter C Dornez pined. "Oh to be with you, Margaret Lucy Fairfield. Oh to have you be mine. Margaret Lucy Fairfield, oh Margaret Lucy Fairfield!"

If he had been any less dignified a butler, he might have allowed a single tear to roll down his face. Being as he _was_ a very dignified butler and a proud warrior of Hellsing (and was at the age where he was just a tad bit insecure about his masculinity), he held back his tears with much courage – all while dusting the cabinet to impeccable dustless-ness.

Having finished with the black cabinet, Walter C Dornez proceeded to lean forlornly against the window sill and gaze out into the garden longingly. "Margaret Lucy Fairfield, oh Margaret Lucy Fairfield," he continued to pine, but finding it rather repetitive, decided to settle for wistful sighs and courageously unshed tears instead.

It was at that exact moment a rag chose to drop from the ceiling and drape itself blatantly and insensitively over Walter C Dornez's head.

Blinking in surprise, Walter C Dornez pulled the blatant and insensitive rag off his head and gazed upwards, only to be met by the strange sight of Hellsing's resident pet vampire hanging from the mini-chandelier in the smoking room.

"Heavens, Alucard!" Walter C Dornez cried. "What are you doing up there?"

"Fulfilling my Master's orders," Alucard replied calmly enough, though a perceptive observer might have noticed the slight frown between his (her?) brows that gave him (her?) a mildly disgruntled look.

"Sir Hellsing's orders?" Walter C Dornez exclaimed. "He ordered you to hang from the chandelier? What did you do to him this time, my dear vampire?"

"I was not ordered to hang from the chandeliers," Alucard replied, with just the slightest hint of grumpiness in his voice. "I was ordered to shine the chandelier, and since my Master inconveniently failed to mention _which_ chandelier, I have to shine all the chandeliers in this mansion."

"Shine the chandelier? Why on earth would he make you shine the chandelier, Alucard?"

"He's having a ball tonight."

"A _ball_? Heavens! Why was I not informed of this? Who's planning the dinner? The duck? The potatoes? And the guest-list? My good vampire, there are a hundred and one things to do, and you tell me the ball is _tonight_?"

"He doesn't want potatoes. Too Irish. He wants _rice_."

"Rice?" Walter C Dornez's face darkened. "Answer me truthfully, Alucard. Who is Sir Hellsing trying to seduce this time?"

"Seduce?"

"Oh don't pretend you do not know what I am talking about, Vampire. That evil, deranged smile does not put me off. Every time Sir Hellsling orders the preparation of something Oriental, he is trying to seduce some poor, hapless woman. He believes exoticism creates eroticism, which is, I have to admit, somewhat true, if the sounds I heard in his room after the Oriental-styled masquerade he held last month are anything to go by. This ball is an elaborate stage of seduction, and I must know who he intends to seduce this time. If it is someone who could create trouble, like, I don't know, the wife of a powerful noble, then by all that is good and beautiful, we have to stop him!"

Alucard blinked and tried to prevent his skirt from falling over his face (he had never thought that wearing a skirt while cleaning the chandeliers would be such an inconvenience). "I do not think my Master intends to do any seducing tonight, Butler."

"Oh, _bull_, Vampire!"

Alucard blinked again – then shrugged. His Master never said he had to keep the purpose of a ball a secret. "He invited Margaret Fairfield."

"He intends to seduce Margaret Lucy Fairfield? Oh, that _monster_! I shall kill him! Out of my way vampire!"

"That was not what I meant, Butler. Stop slashing my arm to pieces. I have orders to shine the floor too, and blood, I have discovered, is not easy to remove."

"Oh, _now_ you know, Vampire. Enough about removing bloodstains though. You have better provide your master with a good explanation or I am going to end the Hellsing line this very moment."

"My orders," Alucard said with a deranged smile, "are to ensure the everlasting sexual bliss of you and Margaret Lucy Fairfield."

"Oh, I see. How kind of… _what_?"

"Yes, Butler, you did not misunderstand me."

"The purpose of this ball is to bring my Margaret and me together?"

"Yes, Butler."

"Me and Margaret together, and just to clarify, in _everlasting sexual bliss_?"

"Yes, Butler. "Sexual bliss" was explicitly stated."

"Oh… well…" Walter C Dornez blinked and pondered the thoughts of adolescence. Then an expression of great distress spread itself over his face. "Heavens! I have nothing… nothing dashing to wear!" he cried. "Nothing with flair and charm! My goodness, it's even worse than that! My wardrobe is bloody! Look at my tie, Vampire! It has drops of blood on it! And all my vests, every single one of them have blood stains! Good gracious! Even my underwear has blood on it! This is a disaster!"

"I can help you create clothing from my blood…"

"Oh, don't be silly! I'm not going to risk you making the illusionary clothing disappear at the wrong moment!"

"I am over 500 years old, Butler. I _know_ when the right timing is… alright, I will admit I deserve this decapitation."

Walter C Dornez pulled himself up to his full height and drew in a deep breath. "Ignore the chandelier, Vampire!" he snarled. "Leave those to the maids. We are wasting time here! Floors need to be polished, decorations need to be put up, the duck needs to be cooked, the plants need to be watered, and oh yes, the bathrooms need to be cleaned! Come with me! We have _things_ to do!"

"Very well, Butler. At this moment, I thoroughly, absolutely detest chandeliers. Just give me a moment to reattach my head."

"Good!" Walter C Dornez cried then smiled the smile of cats pouncing on mice. "This ball is going to be _perfect_! And by the heavens above, I _will_ have everlasting sexual bliss with Margaret Lucy Fairfield if I have to cook all the rice in Southeast Asia!"

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL


	2. Chapter 2

The ball, Sir Arthur Hellsing noted from his perch at the top of the sweeping staircase in the grand hall, was _perfect_.

Floors were so polished reflections could be seen clearly in them (and with a gratuitous number of skirts around, that made the floors just about the best thing that had ever happened to Hellsing), the chandeliers sparkled like stars in the night sky, the bathrooms smelled of roses, the duck was cooked to perfection, and the rice was _orgasmic_ (though admittedly, there was a lot more rice than he had expected). Even the excessive number of red curtains which he usually detested fitted the general atmosphere of the ball. Alucard, Sir Arthur Hellsing decided, deserved some virgin blood before the night is over.

And there was the star of the night.

"Walter! My dear boy!" Sir Arthur Hellsing roared genially, as he swept one arm around the unsuspecting Butler's neck, forcing said Butler to perform several feats of juggling and balancing to avoid spilling the drinks he had been carrying in a tray. "Come this way and let me give you a kiss!"

"That is most kind of you, Sir Hellsing, but… oh gross! My dear sir! I have to protest such behaviour!"

"Of course you have to my dear boy. You wouldn't want to end up like a certain writer/poet now, do you know?" Sir Arthur Hellsing threw back his head and laughed.

Walter C Dornez laughed politely in a rather scathing manner (which is a Talent all on its own). "Of course. Now Lord Fellington wants his…"

"Now, my dear boy, Lord Fellington can wait. Tell me, where is that lovely lady of yours. What's her name, ah… Margaret Fairfield?"

"Yes, my lord. I do not see her now… oh wait! There she is!"

"Where?"

"The lovely lady in the green and red fur dress."

"Good god! Is that a _human_? I thought it was a rather large poodle!"

"Sir Hellsing! You are not to have kinky ideas about my beloved!"

Sir Arthur Hellsing put a gloved hand to his forehead and considered fainting. Unfortunately, the dizzy spell passed a little too quickly, and he found himself incapable of mustering the necessary amount of weakness to faint dramatically. "Well…" he said weakly, leaning on his Butler's arm for support. "She is rather… rather… ah… unique, I suppose."

"Oh, Sir Hellsing. She is just so… _special_."

Sir Arthur Hellsing glanced over at his Butler, and took in the flushed face, gleaming eyes and wide smile. It was the exact expression Walter C Dornez had when he was killing ghouls and vampires. "Ah… well, congratulations my good lad, congratulations. Here. Give me your hand to shake. There's a good boy."

"Thank you, Sir Hellsing," Walter C Dornez said mournfully. "Unfortunately, the lovely lady… alas! She cannot, or will not accept my love!"

"Oh phsaw, my dear lad! It is my educated opinion that the dear woman… erm… thing… person… that _the_ dear Margaret Fairfield is merely shy."

"Really?" Walter C Dornez turned on his lord, eyes glittering maniacally. "Do you really think so, Sir Hellsing?"

"Of course, my good lad! Of course!" Sir Hellsing threw a hearty arm around his Butler's shoulders and tried to reassure his trembling Primal Fear of Predators that his Butler was _not going to eat him up_. "Now, listen to me. Look around you, lad, look around you! Observe the decorations! Observe the shiny, reflective floor oh my goodness I just saw Lady Prune's… erm… anyway… observe, my lad, observe! Good wine and good (not to mention, _exotic_) food! Lovely music and lively dancing! The good Margaret Fairfield must be very much at ease by now."

"At ease, sir?"

"Aye, my good lad! Might she not be a little more willing to ah… indulge a young man's whims, especially one she is attracted to, but only a little too shy to confess her love to?" Sir Arthur Hellsing attempted to nudge his Butler with his elbow then remembered the incident last summer which had resulted in Gardener Jackassus becoming the butt of many a one-armed joke.

"Good heavens, you are right!" Walter C Dornez exclaimed, not realizing how close he had come to accidentally relieving his master of a limb. "This might be my last chance to win the hand of sweet Margaret Fairfield!"

"Of course, my good boy! Now go! Ah wait, a little brandy for courage!"

"Yes, thank you, sir. Good heavens! What is this poison? How do you drink such…"

"Ah! Enough my boy! Go before she leaves!"

"Yes, yes! I shall go!"

"Go!"

"Aye!"

Sir Arthur Hellsing watched with benign paternal interest as his young Butler scuttled off dignifiedly. Then he reached out and picked a glass of brandy up and drank it down in one mouth. This was going to be a very long night, he decided, and he wanted to be decidedly _smashed_ when the shit finally came down.

* * *

Alucard was in a bad mood. This was, by no means, a common occurrence. Alucard, despite being a five hundred year old vampire subjected to the whims of crazy humans and rewarded for his efforts with little more than bland medical blood, was seldom in a bad mood. He was mostly in a _neutral_ mood, floating through life in a haze of indifference. Most of his time, in fact, was spent conversing with the millions of souls within him.

That Nazi foot soldier he killed last month knew so many dirty jokes it was just as fascinating to see how long he could continue sprouting jokes as it was to actually hear the content of the jokes.

"_Guten Tag, Fraulein Master! Would you like to hear about the ass that walked into the bar?" _

"Not now, Familiar," Alucard growled, pressing his skirt against his knees grumpily.

"_Why not, Fraulein Master? Why do you keep staring at the floor… Mein Fuhrer! I can see your drawers!" _

"Be gone, Familiar!"

"_I love these British floors… Ow… Alright… call me again if you are bored… Auf wiedersehen!" _

As his most recently acquired familiar faded away into darkness, Alucard pressed his skirt even more firmly to his knees and stalked towards his latest victim. A deranged look spread over his face and he grinned maniacally at his victim. "You are next," he snarled as he pounced, rag ready in hand.

The forty-sixth chandelier never had a chance.

"Out damned spot, out!" Alucard snarled, rubbing furiously at the chandelier with one hand, and holding his skirt over his knees with the other.

It was probably fortunate the chandelier could not respond, given as it would have made several virulent comments about the way it was being treated.

"Begone! Haunt me no more, spot! Be…"

"Good heavens, Alucard! What are you doing up there?" Sir Arthur Hellsing exclaimed from his position below the chandelier. "I can see your drawers from here, which would be sexy if you didn't look like a little girl, and oh, if I didn't know you are very male and very vampire."

"_Mein Fuhrer! Male!" _

Alucard wondered if dropping the chandelier on his master might be just a tad too petty for the Master of a Million Souls and King of Darkness.

"Good heavens. Is that lace I spy on your drawers?"

Perhaps not _too_ petty. He would be ridding the world of a great evil, and making the world a much safer place for women…

"You told me to shine the chandeliers, Master," Alucard grounded out through a smile that was a little too wide (and a little too sharp) to be considered polite.

"Did I? Oh silly, I meant the chandelier in the Great Hall. Come down now. You did a fantastic job for this ball, and I promise you I will try to trick the young Lady Hungeria into leting you drink a little of her blood. Top-grade virgin blood, I heard! Or would you prefer Lord Naivee? Just a little change from sucking on female virgins."

On the other hand, his master was a good person at heart and surely it would do the world a disservice to kill him.

"Yes," Alucard smiled (a little less widely and sharply), as he slid off the chandlier. "Master."

"Enough small talk, Servant. We have matters to do! Things to see!"

"See?"

"Yes, we need to spy on Walter and his poodle."

"Walter owes a poodle? How could I not know this?"

"Ah… well, you'll find out later." Sir Arthur Hellsing cleared his throat awkwardly and straightened his tie (only to discover he had left it somewhere in the mansion along with a very drunk and very pretty Lady Withoutwit. "Anyway, the problem is I can't seem to find the young stud. That is where you come in, of course, Pet. Now be a good vampire and locate my butler for me."

"Sir yes sir, my Master." Alucard smoothed his skirt down. "When do I get to kill vampires?"

"When I tell you to, now for heaven's sake, find the lad before we miss all the good parts!"

"Yes sir, My Master."

And with that, Alucard, ancient Dracula (or Draculina? Even Alucard was starting to feel a little confused) glided down the gilded corridors of the Hellsing mansion, his (or her) nose flared delicately, seeking the scent of his (her) war partner, the scent of death and polish (and tonight, a lot more cologne than was necessary). A whiff here, a sniff there; Alucard smiled widely as he took in the general scent of wine and decadence flooding the mansion. Deep within him, he felt his _nosferatu_ instincts stirring, stroking the never-ending thirst that always lurked in the darkest recess of his soulless being. This was more like it. He was Alucard! No-Life King, _nosferatu_, Dracula, Master of the Undead, and the Lord of Hell, and he had finally reawaken!

"_Male…" the Nazi mourned," but such lovely legs!" _

* * *

When Walter C Dornez had approached the lovely Margaret Lucy Fairfield (in her red and green fur dress, with matching fur shoes, fur hat and fur shawl), he had expected derision, perhaps even contempt. Some part of him thought she might simply ignore him and walk away. A small but powerful part of him hoped that she would flash her beautiful, crooked, half-decayed smile at him.

What she did was shove a dead dog in his face.

"'lo, Walt C."

Walter C Dornez blinked down his nose at the offending object. "Good evening, Miss Fairfield… no, I mean Miss Marge," he replied politely, with a slight bow. "What a lovely pet you have."

"'s my coat."

"Oh! I did think it looked rather… ah… mortally-disadvantaged. Shall I hang it up for you, my lady?"

"Yah. 's why I'm passin' it to you. I keep spilling wine on it."

"It is my greatest honor to hang up your coat for you, Miss Marge. May I enquire as to the nature of this fur? Such a luxurious touch, and such a lovely colour! It would look most gorgeous in the Red Room in the West Wing of the Hellsing Mansion."

"'s rat fur. M' cat caught so many I decided to use 'em to make a coat. Y' can see the claw and fang marks here though."

"Ah! What a commendable cat! Not only does it rid the place of vermin, it provides its deserving mistress with a most exquisite coat!"

"Y'ah. 's a nice cat. Y' want some fur? I got extra."

"My dear Marge!" Walter C Dornez's eyes filled with tears of gratitude and hope. "That would be most kind! I do not know what to say; this is the kindest anyone has ever been to me!"

"Ps'aw. Nah. This ain't nuttin. It's good exercise for m' cat." Margaret Lucy Fairfield's wobbly eyes centered on Walter C Dornez suddenly and abruptly. "'t gets fat if I leave it alone, so I sumtimes set it on thos' big, healthy rats, just to make it run more."

"Oh my sweet Marge…" Walter C Dornez tugged on the end of one of his deadly wires yearningly. "How lovely… how generous of you to condescend to speak to me thus. And what a lovely mistress you are to your cat, to care so much about its health. How I envy its cheerful, smug, _arrogant, blasted_ grin while it snuggles into that heavenly unsymmetrical bosom of yours! I yearn…" And here, the Butler of Hellsing turned a faint shade of pink, "I quite yearn, as you must know by now… to be your cat…"

"Huh. Why would I know that?"

"Oh well… today, in the boy's toilet… really now…"

"Y' only said y' wanted to be me lover. Y' never said nuttin 'bout being me cat." The wobbly eyes fixed on him suspiciously. "Whatcha playing at now, Walt C?"

Walter C Dornez's eyes wobbled sympathetically as he scrambled desperately for a way to redeem himself. "I'm… I'm not playing at anything…" he stuttered helplessly. "I was merely thinking… of how… how nice it would be, to lie on your lap after a night of slaying ghouls and… and… have you set me on nice, healthy rats. By God! That is… that is _the_ Paradise, the Garden of Eden for… for me and… and… oh Lord, I am gushing. Oh dear, sweet Marge, do forgive me for gushing! I gush so when I'm nervous. You should have seen the first time I met the Queen. I spent half an hour talking non-stop to her. She was nice and let me continue of course, because she is just _that_ nice, but the way I _gushed_! My goodness! I'm sure Sir Hellsing was most displeased with me, and Alucard was simply delighted of course, but you would not know who Alucard is now, would you? My goodness, I _must_ introduce you to Alucard. He… I mean _she_ is just about the sweetest, most charming vampire around. Oh, you need not be afraid. Alucard is quite tame. You should see him… _her_ when she's slaying ghouls though. There is something so _charming_ about seeing that crazy looking on a little girl's face as she goes about shooting ghouls with an over-sized gun. Of course, I wish _you_ were the little girl that was wandering around shooting ghouls with an over-sized gun because that would just be so _adorable_, but my goodness, I really am gushing, oh lord, this is embarrassing." Walter C Dornez shut his mouth abruptly, clamping down on the torrent of words that threatened to escape between the crevices of his teeth.

Margaret Lucy Fairfield stared at his bow-tie, her eyes wobbling dangerously behind her glasses.

Walter C Dornez swallowed painfully. "More rice?" he questioned weakly.

"Y're sweet," Margaret Lucy Fairfield announced.

Walter C Dornez's eyes widened and his knees threatened to give way beneath him. "Ex… excuse me?" he whispered querulously.

"Y're sweet," Margaret Lucy Fairfield repeated. "No one ever wants ta be me cat. Y're the only one. Y're the first." And she smiled. It was an uneven, stained smile, and just about the most divine smile Walter C Dornez had ever seen.

"I'm… the first…" he whispered, laughing in relief. "My love… my sweet love… oh, Marge! We shall be together forever!"

"Of course not."

"Huh?" For the first time in many years, Walter C Dornez sounded and looked exactly like a fifteen year old boy. "Why?" he whined. "You just said I'm sweet!"

"Cos I don't wanna," Margaret Lucy Fairfield said evenly. "I'm gonna be a revolutionary one day and then I'm gonna encourage sex'al liberation for wymen and homosex'als, sponsor'd compulsory education, and eq'al rig'ts for all humanity. Then I'm gonna go to Africa and end extreme pov'aty, eradicate polio, and fight starvation. All dis while, 'm gonna be fightin' global warming and pollut-n. Howdaya think I'm gonna do all that if I'm shacking up wi'h ya?"

"Oh…" Walter C Dornez pressed a finger to his chin thoughtfully. "I see a problem there," he admitted. "I couldn't possibly join you in your lovely endeavors too because my only goal in life is to kill more ghouls than Alucard, and win the bet we made two years ago. He promised he would let me try to kill him if I could kill as many people, ghouls or vampires as he has."

"Toldya. Y're sweet though, wantin' to kill ya friend like that. Only true friends do that."

"Well, I guess…" Walter C Dornez sighed. "It would not be… gentlemanly of me to hinder you in such pursuits. However… may I be granted just one request?"

"'k I suppose. Whaddaya want?"

Walter C Dornez leaned over and whispered into her beautifully misshapen ear. The wobbly eyes got enormously huge for a moment then blinked. Bony shoulders were raised in a shrug. "Sure, why not?" she said.

"Wonderful!" Walter C Dornez exclaimed, taking hold of her hand and leading her away from the ball. "I cleaned the bathrooms and perfumed them just for this purpose!"

* * *

As Sir Arthur Hellsing and Alucard wandered the mansion, hunting down every single source that emitted Walter C Dornez's smell (and discovering several clothing items that had potentially never seen the inside of a wash-basin before), as Walter C Dornez and Margaret Lucy Fairfield indulged in the sweet temptations of adolescence, as the party raged full-scale and turned into an immense orgy of greed, lust and gluttony, somewhere in the garden something went _bump _in the darkness.

_Bump_, admittedly, hardly described the sound that was made. In this case, onomatopoeia fails terribly to express the full quality of the sound. One might say the sound was of a _tearing_ quality. Another might claim it had more of a _ripping_ quality. Yet another might think it was more of a _wet_ sound with _slimy_ overtones and _stomach-churning_ undertones.

One-armed Garderner Jackassus, as he fell backwards and landed flat on his back, personally felt that it had more of the _intestines being ripped up and rapidly devoured_ tone.

"Yup," he thought, as his vision started to fade to black. "Definitely an intestines-being-ripped-up-and-rapidly-devoured tone."

* * *

"My God… forgive my blasphemy, but my _God_…" Sir Arthur Hellsing whispered, eyes wide with shock as he peered through the conveniently-placed peephole in the third floor ladies. "How on _earth _are they doing that? No, you are _not_ to look Alucard! I forbid you to look. You look exactly like a little girl now. Little girls should not be seeing this. As the head of the Hellsing family, I have a duty to prevent you from seeing this, but oh _my God how is that possible_?"

"My Master, need I remind you that I am five hundred years old?" Alucard grumbled, feeling a strange, almost irresistible urge to stomp his foot impatiently.

"I _know_ that, Alucard! I am no fool! But you _look_ like a little girl now and…"

"Oh, I can un-_look_ like a little girl if you wish. Only humans can be so caught up about form and superficial appearances."

"Oh will you shut up, Slave? Walter is going to hear… oh my God! He did not just do that! That is so impossible! I tried that with Helen once. It does not work! The angle is all wrong! He's not going to make it… oh my God, he just made it! Where did he learn all this stuff?"

"This morning, he borrowed a copy of an old, Indian text that your grandfather brought back from India as a sort of curiosity," Alucard mused. "I didn't quite catch what it was about, but I did see Walter doing some rather ah… strenuous exercises after reading it. He kept mumbling something about needing to strengthen his thigh muscles."

"Oh…" Sir Arthur Hellsing blinked. "Oh dear. I believe that ah… dear Grandpa Hellsing has just furthered Walter's education far more than I had intended to."

"Indeed," Alucard murmured, trying to peer around Sir Arthur Hellsing in as subtle a manner as possible.

"My goodness… you know what they say about books and… Alucard! I told you not to…"

"What," Alucard said calmly, "is Walter doing to that poodle?" Deep inside him, he felt a strange urge to blush and run away giggling and screaming at the same time. He quelled that urge with a vengeance.

"Ah… ah… you're five hundred years old! Don't tell me you…"

"I know all about such acts, if you must know, Master. Why a dog?"

"Erm… it's… a… a rather long story. You see… that ah… _dog_ isn't so much a dog as a…"

And it was at that moment, as a highly flustered Sir Arthur Hellsing struggled to explain to a little girl-shaped monster the strange ways nature works in dealing out the nasty genes, a loud, piercing scream conveniently emanated from the banquet hall.

"My goodness!" Sir Arthur Hellsing cried in relief. "What was that?"

(In the bathroom, a grumpy voice muttered something that vaguely sounded like, "What the… I'm almost…".)

"That," Alucard said with the confidence of the experienced, "sounds exactly like a twenty-nine year old man with blonde hair and a monocle, dressed in a coat of grade A sheep's wool getting his arm ripped off."

"… Blonde hair? Monocle?"

"I recognized Lord Dumbleton's voice."

"Ah." Sir Arthur Hellsing frowned. "That wouldn't do. I don't quite remember allowing arm-ripping to happen in the banquet hall. Did I ever allow that?"

Alucard shrugged indifferently. "You will have to ask Walter, Master. You know I care so little for the workings of the domestic realm."

"You never allowed it."

Sir Arthur Hellsing shrieked in a panic as the bathroom door behind him opened and a disheveled Walter C Dornez emerged with murder blazing in his eyes.

"Ah! My good boy… I was just passing…"

"I heard everything, My Master," Walter C Dornez replied, bowing deeply. "I would dearly love to kill you and your pet, but alas, you are my Master, and I have to refrain from killing you… or your pet, who is immortal anyway…"

"Oh! Well then, my dear boy! I always knew you held a strong affection for me, just as I have always regarded you as my dearest son! I see that you know some rather ah… interesting techniques and I would…"

"Don't push it, My Master."

"Oh… alright."

"Say," a distinctively feminine voice commented.

Alucard blinked. "The poodle just talked," (s)he commented. "Even my hell hound can't do that." (S)he frowned and looked just a little more jealous than an ancient _nosferatu_ who could shape-shift and who possessed immortality had any right to do.

"Y're funny, sista. Y' believe in the sex'al liberation of wymen?"

"Oh…" Alucard rubbed his/her chin thoughtfully. "Well, My Master would believe in anything that has the word "sexual" in it, so I assume that I do."

"Cool, but that ain't what I wanted to say in the fi'st place," Margaret Lucy Fairfield announced.

"Ah," Sir Arthur Hellsing cried cheerfully, regarding the young lady with the benign paternal affection reserved for highly favoured daughters-in-law. "And what was it you wished to say in the first place, dear Margaret?"

"Oh, nuttin much, just that dere's a real funny guy walkin' towards us now, moanin' and groanin', and dere's blood drippin' from 'is hands and mouth."

"Oh…" All three members of the Hellsing household turned and regarded the figure.

"It luks awful lot like a zombie to me, sir, so I thot I'ad better mention it," Margaret Lucy Fairfield said helpfully. "Y' know, given 'ow zombies eat brains and all that."

"It's not a zombie dear," Sir Arthur Hellsing informed her kindly, patting her head instinctively (she felt _so_ much like that puppy he had owned as a boy). "It is what we at Hellsing call, a ghoul. It would have been a non… ah… _virginal_ victim that was bitten by a vampire, and has now turned into a slave for the vampire."

"Cool. So it's like… Renfield. Eatin' flies and stuff?"

"Ah, not quite my dear. Are you not afraid? My goodness, you would do so well in Hellsing. I'm sure you will get along perfectly with Alucard. The poor dear needs someone to play with sometimes you know? You could walk his hellhound together and talk about… about Walter and… ah… slaying pagans or something. You know, the things young ladies like yourselves talk about nowadays." Sir Arthur Hellsing beamed inwardly at his great benevolence and thoughtfulness for his employee's well-beings.

"Sir Hellsing," Walter C Dornez said politely. "The ghoul?" He stepped forward slightly in front of Margaret Lucy Fairfield and struck a commanding posture in the hopes of impressing her with his charismatic presence.

(He would have been devastated to know Margaret Lucy Fairfield found his efforts to impress her simply _adorable_.)

"Ah yes, the _ghoul_." Sir Arthur Hellsing sniffed disgustedly. "Alucard, be a dear and shoot that nasty ghoul will you?" he said kindly, turning to said vampire and patting her hand with benign paternalism. "I believe it just chewed the arm off one of my guests, which is just plain rude."

"Yes, My Master!"

Walter C Dornez winced slightly as the ghoul made several splatters down the corridor. "Really, now, Alucard! _I_ am the one who has to clean that mess up!"

"Cleanin' de mess up," Margaret Lucy Fairfield mumbled. "Dat's so like a butler, Walt C. So sexay."

"Oh Marge…"

Sir Arthur Hellsing cleared his throat loudly. "Anyway," he said sternly. "Receive your orders, Alucard, Walter! Search and destroy, search and destroy! Find the mastermind behind this attack, slay this pagan and destroy this blasphemer's tainted soul! Annihilate the filthy minions, these unholy ghouls! Defend the Hellsing manor! In the name of God and Queen, Amen!"

"Amen!" Alucard and Walter thundered and took off down the corridor.

"Now that that's done," Sir Arthur Hellsing said cheerfully, taking what he assumed was Margaret Fairfield's hand (but could also be a part of her dress, he wasn't sure, they blended in together so well). "Shall we retire to the smoking room, dear lady? It's the safest room in the mansion. I keep all my liquor in there you see."

"'k."

"My Master."

"Yes, Walter? Why you back here? Were my orders not clear enough?"

"No, My Master. I was merely wondering if you would like me to pour out the brandy first before I destroy the vampire and his minions."

"Ah, what an excellent idea! To the smoking room then!"

"Butlars," Margarent Lucy Fairfield mumbled. "'ow sexay…"

* * *

In the time it took for Alucard to reach the banquet hall, Walter C Dornez to pour two glasses of brandy, and Sir Arthur Hellsing to confirm without a doubt that Margaret Lucy Fairfield _is _human, the banquet hall was overrun with ghouls.

It is very easy for humans and vampires to assume that ghouls are merely the physical remains of the victim of a vampire, animated to act as a form of mindless servant to fulfill the violent tendencies of a vampire. That is all very good and well for the non-ghouls; they were not the ones who were stumbling around, moaning and groaning, and eating brains. Besides, humans and vampires both had superiority complexes that made them both far more similar than either species was willing to admit.

The truth of the matter is, ghouls _did _have thoughts. They just came slowly and were usually not quite interesting. For example, a standard thought a ghoul would usually have would be, "Brrraaaiiinnnsss" (at that speed). Occasionally, a ghoul might also have a thought like, "Arrrmmmssss… faallllinnnggggg offffffffff", but thoughts of such an intellectual slant are few and far between. Rarely, in the "one-in-a-million" type of statistics, a ghoul might think, "IIIIIfffffffff IIIIII wwwaaaasssss kkkiiillleeedddd bbbyyyy aaaa vvvaaaammmmppiiirrreee bbbbuuutttttt ccccaaaannnnn ssstiiillll wwwaaalllkkkk aaarrrroooouuunnnddddd aaannnddddd hhhhaaaavvvvveeeee ddddiiiieeeetttaaarrrryyyyyy , aaammmm IIII sssttttiiilllll aaaallllliiiivvvvveeee?" ("If I was killed by a vampire but can still walk around and have dietary necessities, am I still alive", for those species of faster, but by no means, superior, intellectual-processing rates.) Such thoughts occurred so rarely to ghouls simply because…

_Boom!_

Most of them did not live (eh… exist) long enough to have such a long thought.

* * *

Alucard sniffed condescendingly and walked over the fallen ghoul. "Trash," he/she… _it_ murmured. "How dare such disgusting, filthy trash invade the Hellsing mansion and force me to _work_?" (Which was _just_ bias considering how this ghoul could have become a great philosopher had it been allowed to exist a while longer.)

The air hummed suddenly as near transparent wires whipped through the air, wrapped around a second ghoul and turned it into the stuff sausages are filled with. "I thought you enjoyed your work, Alucard," Walter C Dornez commented nonchalantly.

"Oh, I _do_, Walter darling, but this is _such _trash," Alucard replied.

"… Darling?"

"I'm wearing a skirt, Walter. I am _expected_ to go all sweet and mushy over your youthful beauty."

"… Alucard, that is sick."

"Nope, what you and your pet dog were doing in the toilet was _sick_. This is just plain embarrassing."

"Do you wish me to eviscerate you, Vampire?"

"Not really, actually. Maybe some other time. What I really wish for now is a… ouch! Walter, you made me trip over my intestines!"

"You deserve it, Alucard."

"Do not!"

"Do too."

"Do not!"

"You called my girlfriend a _dog_!"

"What do you mean… _that_ was a _woman_? Impossible! A werewolf perhaps, but not a _real…_ Ow! Now you made me trip over my own head! You are so _mean_! I hate you!"

"I hate you _too_! And why on earth are you talking like a spoiled, rich brat of a _girl_?"

"That's because I _am_ a girl!"

"You're not! You're simply _disguised_ as a girl! You are a shape-shifting _nosferatu_ for goodness sake! Remember Mina!"

Alucard, ancient _nosferatu_ stomped her heeled boots violently against the floor and shrieked shrilly. "I'm a _girl_!" she screamed, tiny fists clenched at her side. "I wanna _be_ a _girl_! And don't _tell _me about _Mina_! She never let me drink her blood willingly anyway! And why can't I be _homosexual_? I _wanna_ be _homosexual_ now!"

Walter C Dornez stopped in his tracks and stared at his companion, his mouth hanging open in a very unflattering way. A tiny voice at the back of his mind reminded him that lovely Margaret Lucy Fairfield could be watching him, and he shut his mouth hurriedly. "Alucard!" he exclaimed. "Do you know what you just said?"

Alucard blinked and unclenched his fists. "My… what on earth did I…" he stared blankly at his hands then clutched his face in horror.

"_Yup, Mein Fraulein! You just spoke like a spoiled little girl, and it was gud!"_

"Shut up!" Alucard screamed and put a bullet through his head (which was still lying on the floor). "I did _not _just… my god, I sound like that prostitute Sir Hellsing bedded last week! All high notes and shrill voices and…"

"Banging. Yes, all the banging sounds all night long."

Alucard stood aghast. "My god… this is… this is…"

"Weird? Disgusting? Appalling?" Walter offered. "Strange? Stomach-wrenching? Head-spinning?"

"Exhilarating," Alucard concluded, wild fire burning in her large, red eyes. "By god, this is… _wonderful_!"

Walter C Dornez stopped in the middle of tearing a ghoul to pieces and stared at the 500 year old vampire. "Excuse me? Did you just say…"

"Wonderful!" Alucard shrieked, wild, insane laughter echoing around the blood-stained banquet hall. "Look! I can stomp and stamp and scream and shriek and everyone just looks at me indulgently! I can wear pink without looking like one of those _homosexuals_! I have now so many more options to use in deciding how to get my annoying hair out of my face! Think about it! Ponytails! Braids! Plaits! Hair-bands! Flowers!"

Walter C Dornez took a very large step away from the ranting vampire, eyes wide with terror. "Alucard?" he whispered hesitantly.

"And when I'm not in the mood to work, all I need to do is say I feel faint!. I can even ask Sir Hellsing to sponge my forehead and cuddle me without any of us feeling any form of awkwardness!" Alucard's eyes burnt brightly. "Do you know what it is like living 500 years without a _single hug_? Do _you_, Walter C Dornez?"

Walter C Dornez shook his head frightfully. "Nope…" he whispered, wires whipping around in a reflection of his inner emotional frenzy.

"I love this," Alucard cried, soft chuckles turning into shrill, deranged laughter. "I love _this_! I LOVE THIS!"

It was at that moment, a poor, unsuspecting evil vampire decided to hop out from the shadows, laughing maniacally. "HA HA HA!" he declared loudly. "How do you like that, Hellsing, bane of vampires? To be taken so low by an army of ghouls?"

"Oh, good, an enemy," Walter murmured in relief, hurrying out of the disturbing situation, his wires twanging in anticipation. Before he could reach his opponent however, a loud roar boomed out from behind him and took off most of the lower half of the vampire.

"EEK!" the vampire protested, informing the duo of his disapproval of being blown in two.

Laughter echoing around the banquet all, _Dracula… Draculina_ Alucard skipped towards the fallen vampire, gun dangling dangerously from her delicate fingers.

"How dare you!" the vampire screeched. "Do you want to die?"

"No, I don't want to die," Alucard snarled, pointing the gun straight at the vampire's forehead, eyes glittering madly. "I want a _pony_."


End file.
